UFC veteran Ivan Salaverry: Retirement comes with no regrets

http://mmajunkie.comWhen famous athletes retire, they get interviewed by Bob Costas in a luxurious hotel room with big lights, multiple camera angles and complementary Fiji water at the ready. They reminisce about their bygone glories as woeful fans abuse the Kleenex box and beg their hero not to fade away just yet.

Ivan Salaverry got me, Kelly Crigger, a part-time writer who happened to be in Seattle just days after the announcement that he would no longer grace the octagon. Hardly fitting for someone with such a distinguished MMA career. In a time when old-timers live in a state of perpetual denial and continue to embarrass themselves while trying to cash in on their name, Salaverry has voluntarily bowed out of competition to pursue other interests and give his time back to the people who matter in his life — his family and students.

“Fighting is such a selfish thing, you know?” Salaverrry said. “It’s all about your diet, your training, your sleep, your conditioning. There’s no time for anyone but you. I’ve accepted there’s more to life than that. There are people who deserve my time and attention that haven’t been getting it.”

Besides being a classy guy in a sport full of gentlemen, Salaverry is a special guy to me because his was the first gym I ever wrote about for Real Fighter magazine and he occupies half a chapter in my book (“Title Shot: Into the Shark Tank of Mixed Martial Arts” — a shameless plug if ever there was one). We stood on Thomas street, practically underneath the iconic Space Needle, just after a grappling class as his students cleaned up inside. Both of us wore shorts on what is considered a warm night in the northwest — 70 degrees — and waxed poetic on a now-defunct fighting career.

“I loved it, man,” Salaverry admitted with a smile. “I never minded the cutting weight, the long hours, the pain. It was all part of the game. I still love it, but it hasn’t been the same lately. I didn’t feel the same walking to the cage like I used to.”

At 37 years old, the former Marine is still seven years junior to the patriarch of active fighters, Randy Couture. But the aches and pains of a combative life coupled with the speed and power of today’s younger fighters has rendered his once formidable weaponry OBE (Overcome By Events).

“Father time was kicking my ass,” Salaverry said while running a hand over his surgically repaired shoulder. “First it was [the shoulder], then the hip, then the back. I used to jump out of bed in the morning and say, ‘Let’s go,’ but now it’s like, snap, crackle, pop as I take baby steps to get up. I remember when I could reach behind my back and join my hands together in the middle,” he said while trying to perform the move unsuccessfully. “Now look at them. There’s no mobility left.”

He is chivalry in the flesh, the guy who would rather let an opponent get up after a slip instead of take advantage of him being down. He lives and breathes the classic warrior traditions of respect and dignity, and his decision to stop fighting is indicative of someone who has discovered his own limitations and, more importantly, abides by them. Other fighters could learn from this self-discovery, and even he wishes he had done it earlier.

“I wish I would have stopped after the (Art) Santore fight,” Salaverry admitted. “I had my shoulder surgery and thought everything was OK so I took the Terry Martin fight, but it wasn’t okay. I wasn’t the way I used to be mentally, and I think I let the surgery get to me.”

Caught in an armbar at the hands of Rousimar Palhares during UFC 84, Salaverry tapped out of the fight and his career at the same time. He stands like an old sergeant, craving to lead soldiers just one more time but knowing it’s not meant to be. It’s that camaraderie he’ll miss the most, rather than the actual fights.

“Me and Josh Barnett used to run the stairs right over here and then go out and have fun,” he says pointing toward Lake Union. “We would go to a bar and laugh about. ‘Someday we’re going to be in the UFC.’ Dennis Hallman and Jeff Monson would come up from Olympia, and we had Aaron Riley and Benji Radach here in those days. It was just fun training with those guys.”

Feeling like Howard Cosell looking back over Muhammad Ali’s career, I asked the obvious questions.

“Who would I like one last fight with? (Nathan) Marquardt,” Salaverry said. “Just because I didn’t perform well. It was the main event that night, and I just didn’t bring it. I asked for a rematch immediately, but it never happened.

“If I had to pick one fight that was the high point. … It was probably [Andrei] Semenov. I had some tears in my eyes after that one. I went back to the locker room and said, ‘Wow. I did it.’

“Regrets? None, but I wish MMA had gotten big earlier, when I was a younger man. I wish this huge surge the sport is going through happened when I was still fresh. You know Mo (Maurice Smith — Salaverry’s friend and training partner)? His old ass is still fighting, but I’m done.”

We all move on. It’s part of the natural order of things. Kids grow up and discover their parents weren’t full of crap. Salaverry’s future also lies in the youth of the sport, and phase one of “Operation Rebuild” is well under way at his gym.

“The focus now is on building my teams with USA Boxing and USA Grappling,” Salaverry said. “I’m focusing my guys on those amateur-style tournaments, and when they get four or five of each under their belts, then we’ll talk MMA. But it’s got to be a professional promotion. I am so over the [expletive] PFC, the Parking lot Fighting Championships, you know? Everyone thinks they can throw up a cage in a bar and let anyone in to make money now. I won’t let my guys do that stuff.”

I pressed him from every angle I could, wondering if he’d show some remorse or uncertainty at making such a life-altering decision, but there wasn’t any. Just a calm confidence and a hint of anticipation at the new possibilities he now faces.

“Don’t worry about me, bro,” Salaverry said. “I’m going to be A-OK. I have a beautiful wife, two awesome boys, a new house, a school. My family and my students are getting the attention they need now. You’ll see me cornering guys plenty. It’s all good. I’m going to be alright.”

Kelly Crigger is an Army officer and the author of “Title Shot: Into the Shark Tank of Mixed Martial Arts,” which is currently available on Amazon.com or through his website at www.intothesharktank.com.

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